Noses and Nickels

“We’re down to counting noses and nickels,” said the minister describing his once-thriving parish.  New to the expression, I figured out he was talking about the way he measures the health of his parish. After many years of vibrant ministries, it was now about the number of people showing up and money collected.

Not long ago, his was the model parish. With three services on Sundays, a vibrant youth program, visible commitment to the poor, and compassionate understanding of twelve-step recovery, his parish was a seven-days-a-week faith community others imitated. Did things change because something happened, or because he began counting noses and nickels?

How we look at or measure life determines the kind of life we live. Do we look at people, organizations, and ideas from an enlarged or constricted view? Do we see what could be, or what is? The way we measure determines everything.

My measuring techniques vary depending on what surrounds me. When banks change their tune, when others tell me "it will never work," or I get tired and feel like I'm in it alone, it's easy to start counting noses and nickels, but I know we are called to see beyond such things to a more excellent way. Only then can we sail to shores beyond the horizon, work toward goals beyond our grasp, and participate in a dance beyond our creating.

The Ultimate Parade

To adapt the words of Robert Frost, "something there is that loves a [parade]". Just to imagine listening to a marching band in the distance and seeing the first baton-swirling marcher quickens my heart, and it is to the image of a parade that I turn this All Saints Day.

Today, we remember and give thanks for those who have died. Yes, there are the big saints to remember, like Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, along with Francis, Benedict, and many others. But today is also for remembering the other saints who do not loom as large on history’s horizon, but whose lives enriched ours. Whether big or small, today we celebrate those created in God’s image, who in one way or another reflected or pointed to the one bigger than us all.

This morning, as I sat in a chapel service at my daughter's school, I noticed a stained glass window high in the tower showing the “great cloud of witnesses,” (otherwise known as saints) as if they were walking in a parade. Side by side they were making their way into heaven. It was easy for me to see faces particular to my journey, people who have pointed the way for me. I know you have faces of your own. Today we stand and celebrate the parade.

But in a recent book by Bob Goff, I read about an unusual parade. Bob and his family organized a neighborhood parade that has become an annual event. People dress in costumes, play instruments of any kind, and gather at the end for a picnic. The catch is, no one is allowed to watch. Ever single person must march in the parade. In other words, there are no spectators, only participants. 

In many ways, I think that’s the kind of parade we celebrate today. We are not called to stand on the curb and cheer. Rather, we are to “join in their number,” as the song goes, as we head to the picnic big enough for us all.

Thanks be to God.

Uninvited Guests

The uninvited guests,

Came knocking on my door.

I pulled the blinds,

And turned off the lights,

Pretending I wasn’t home,

But they knew better.

On the porch,

Fear and anger stood hand in hand,

With shame and grief close by.

They were in no hurry.

They had all day,

All night,

No matter how I paced within.

“Go away,” I shouted.

“I have no time . . . or space . . .

for you!”

Silence their reply.

“We’ve met before,” I offered.

“It ended badly.”

Silence still

So, in great frustration,

I went to the door,

And turned the locks,

One after another,

Pausing before the last.

“If you must!” I sighed,

And opened the door,

Only to find the porch empty,

And leaves swirling in the breeze.